(2003-11-30) Besides All Those Pesky Life Lessons

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I wrote this on the 28th in my paper journal, 4.30am when I couldn't sleep anymore.

Three months today since I landed in this strange little country.

I think the reason why I haven't written so much about it is because of a large paradigm shift. Things have become my norm here. Vocabulary has changed to include words like bush taxi, Serekunda, upcountry, toubabs, power outages, no water, Ramadan, Koriteh, Salam Malakeum... I'm not sure when it became so normal, but it has.

Suddenly, 25.5 degrees is cold, it's a blessing when I've got access to both water and power, whne an odd day for the weather is when it's overcast, and I'm thrilled when the mosque doesn't wake me up at 5am.

The animals in the streets don't shock me anymore, nor do the burning piles of garbage, nor does the poverty.

I'm used to the sand being everywhere- and the thought of walking along the side of the road without sand seems a bit odd. Knowing that when I leave here, I'm probably never going to have to see another road paved with shells is sad.

Covering my thighs, pulling back my hair, not wearing makeup, being aware that havign a male friend into visit me after dark, and wondering what people think....

The children noticing me on the street and screaming "toubab" at me and getting overly excited when I wave and smile at them.

These are the things that I don't notice anymore.

The bugs in my house. The mosquitoes have died down now that it's the dry season, but I still sleep with my mosquito net every night. This was something that was difficult to get used to - I felt closed in, my feet always stuck out the bottom- but now I welcome it- I don't even notice that I'm sleeping in some kind of a case.

The prayers five time a day don't bother me (much). Though, I'll be the first to admit that I do daydream about stealing the speaker system from the mosque down the road so that I don't have to hear the morning prayers.

And when asked WHY I'm not a Muslim, I jokingly tell them that it's because they wake up too early to pray. I enjoy my sleep too much to become a Muslim.

I'm now used to a five minute trip taking an hour. Not because things move slowly here, but rather because I have to greet (and sometimes small chat with) everyone that I come into contact with. They ask about my body and my friends and they actually pay attention to my answer. They remember if I wasn't feeling very well, and will ask me how I'm doing the next time they see me. If they hear me cough, they'll say, "Oh, sorry man," and the looks on their faces, deep with concern, tell me they're totally serious. Then they'll tell me that they have prayed, or will pray for me.

I'm used to the tye die. I'm used to seeing people carry anything and everything on their heads. The only time I notice it, is when it's something odd- a couple of weeks ago, I noticed someone carrying a chair, and then someone else with a coffee table on their head... I think it would strike anyone as weird- no matter how long they were here.

I'm even more used to the rooster every morning, though I still often fantasize about kicking in it's stupid, peabrain, loud head. [Note: landlord recently killed the sucker- without, ahem, encouragement from me.]

I've managed to stay vegetarian and not eat any fish or meat- even though that's what this country thrives on. I've been able to sample some local food... some sandwiches with a bean and palm oil filling, their groundnuts (peanuts), mangos, bananas, oranges (that aren't even orange- they're green).

I shop in the markets every day, and the only time I eat processed food for meals is when I miss green vegetables (because we have none here), and I'll buy a can of spinache.

I eat the local bread, a dense dough called tapalapa. I've managed to stop my fears of unpasturized milk and now I enjoy the yogurt. I've even started eating eggs (only for protein), even though they never refridgerate them.

The pit latrines don't smell nearly as bad as they once did. I'm more wary of them since I fell in one though.

My jobs..

Coming to this country to work is... strange. When I first thought about doing "development" work in the IT sector, I thought it would be wonderful. I didn't want these countries to miss out on another revolution. They're so far behind us as it is, the computer age is so important- if they miss out on this, they're screwed.

But screwed out of what? I'm not sure. Screwed out of the cold culture back home, where people keep their heads down so they don't have to talk to other people? Where the main concern of most women is how fat/thin they are and the next issue of Cosmo magazine? And the men, is about trying to get a six-figure income and working on picking up chicks? I'm not sure I want these people exposed to our culture... will knowledge of computers help this country? This country where the metal workers don't have protective eyewear so they're quickly going blind by welding all day. They're making $20 a month and they're going blind.

Will computer literacy help the people who have to wear shoes on their hands, otherwise, dragging themselves along the streets- their only mode of transporation- would tear up their hands? Will it!?

Will computer literacy help a country whose main hospital doesn't have enough blood or enough supplies to help people? WHAT AM I DOING?

I'm teaching 25 women about computers- and I know that 20 of them will never touch a computer once I leave. The other five will use them, but for nothing more than Microsoft Word- and in the end, who really needs Microsoft? We did fine without them for thousands of years.

But the women I teach know that computers are important. They may only get 30 minutes of class a week, but the look on their faces when they double click an icon properly and the computer actually does something is priceless. My boss, the Nun, the head of the school, says that the computer classes aren't about computer skills, but rather about self esteem building. I'm not going to argue with that.

I've never been so aware of the fact that I'm Canadian. Although I see my culture in an entirely different light here, there's no denying what I am. I'm a lower-middle-class white girl from Nova Scotia. I actually do love Trading Spaces, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, punk rock music, piercings, tattoos, tofu, hot showers, bubble bath, supermarkets with (too much) selection, skim milk, the occassional Tim Hortons donut, and the McDonalds cheeseburger (without the meat, extra pickle), high heeled shoe, miniskirt, English pub, expensive restaurant, white picket fence lifestyle.

Though I do love it here, it's beautiful- and there have been more UPS than DOWNS, I know more than ever that this is not home. That even if I was to stay here for ten years or for the rest of my life, I'd never fit in. Doesn't matter how many of the local languages I learn, or what clothes I wear, to them I'll always be a toubab, a white woman, someone who's got it "better" than them, someone with money, a way out of The Gambia. Boss Lady. I'm different, there's no denying it- so I don't and they don't.

But it's nice to get a glimpse of a different life, a different world. And that's all I'll ever get.